A friend of mine recently wrote for Wired about the sketch comedy I Think You Should Leave—how he’d missed the show’s genius at first and has now come to embrace its embrace—sadly, and even movingly—of who we are. It’s easy to miss what the show’s up to because at first glance, it’s all pretty low-hanging fruit. Or poop. So much poop. Fart jokes, mudpies, wanking boys (or boys who need to wank)—a lot of physical comedy, too, like people being thrown into china cases and crashing into storefronts and all that yuk-yuk, hi, I’m a twelve-year-old boy with a lot of spit and jiz under my fingernails
I Think You Should Leave
I Think You Should Leave
I Think You Should Leave
A friend of mine recently wrote for Wired about the sketch comedy I Think You Should Leave—how he’d missed the show’s genius at first and has now come to embrace its embrace—sadly, and even movingly—of who we are. It’s easy to miss what the show’s up to because at first glance, it’s all pretty low-hanging fruit. Or poop. So much poop. Fart jokes, mudpies, wanking boys (or boys who need to wank)—a lot of physical comedy, too, like people being thrown into china cases and crashing into storefronts and all that yuk-yuk, hi, I’m a twelve-year-old boy with a lot of spit and jiz under my fingernails